“No.” Max gently removed her hands from his face. “I don’t love you, Rebecca, not the way you want me to. Let me take you home. You’re tired and overwrought and not thinking straight. I want you to go home and get a good night’s sleep. Think through what I’ve said.” He felt her tremble at his rejection. He hated himself for humiliating her. “You’ll see I am right.”
“I thought you said you didn’t want to patronise me.” A trace of the petulant Rebecca rose to the surface. “That’s downright insulting.”
“Oh God, I don’t mean it to be. You’re right about one thing. I do care about you very much. You are probably the most honest, fascinating, wonderful, and funny person I have ever met, and believe me, I’ve met a few, but I care for you as a friend. We can never be anything more. You do understand that, don’t you? Please tell me you do.”
“No, I don’t. What I understand is you are afraid. I realize I’ve shocked you. I’ve shocked myself. Honestly, I didn’t plan this, but I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I had to tell you how I feel.”
“No more, Rebecca, please.” He banged the side of his head with his palm. “Let’s just go. We’ll talk about it another time, but right now, I don’t know what else to say.” For a moment, he didn’t think he’d got through to her, but then, head bent, she stood and took off the dressing gown. Without a word, she walked to the door.
Although less than a hundred metres, it was the longest drive of his life. Her back turned to him, Rebecca sat with her forehead pressed against the window. She didn’t speak. He imagined she didn’t have a lot left to say.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. How the hell hadn’t he seen this coming? Maybe he had? Maybe he’d chosen to ignore it.
“You’re angry.” Still not looking at him, she traced patterns on the steamed up window. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not angry.” He pulled alongside the kerb outside The Harding residence, praying her mother and father were asleep. The last thing he needed was curious parents breathing down his neck.
“I think you’re confused.” She made no move to get out.
“Rebecca…”
“I want to kiss you.” She swung around and sidled over until her knees pressed against his thighs. “I want to know what it’s like to kiss someone I want to kiss. I love you.”
Max froze, trapped with nowhere to run and unable to escape the intoxicating pressure of her thumb as it traced a path along his bottom lip. “Please stop this, Rebecca.”
Rebecca was lost in a fantasy world where she had made him her hero. Eyes closed, she wound her fingers in his hair and pulled him in close until he felt the heat of her body against his. Her warm breath brushed his face causing the blood to surge to his head. She pressed her lips to his. It was the briefest of kisses; sweet, innocent but transferring so much emotional need.
Drawing on every ounce of willpower he possessed, he placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away. “No more.”
“It’s enough.” Smiling, she stroked his jaw, before touching her lips to his cheek. “For now. You do love me. I know you do.”
Max waited until she was inside, and then he let out the howl he’d held at bay, banging his fist down on the dashboard. What a fucking mess, and he had no idea how to get out of it. Of all his pupils, why her? Why a girl that was so emotionally fragile? He was out of his depth. It was no use; this was something he needed help on. Pulling out his mobile from his jean pocket, he glanced at the time before scrolling down to Tom’s number.
Tom picked up on the first ring. “Max, thank God. Rebecca? How is she?”
“Tom, I know it’s late, but I’m coming over. We have to talk.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Come in,”Tom ushered Max in, a finger against his lips, “but keep it down. Fiona’s just got Lucy off. She’s running a temperature.”
Max reckoned the little girl wouldn’t be the only one once Tom heard him out. To his surprise, he found Fiona sitting on the sofa, Christine Holmes by her side. They shared a bottle of wine, expressions sombre.
“Chris? What are you doing here?” Max’s unease threatened to go off the worry scale. Chris’s being there presented an ominous sign.
“First things first. Drink?” Tom handed him a glass of wine.
“Thanks.” Max took the glass although his stomach rebelled at the acrid smell. “So how is Brendon?”
“Shaken and slightly stirred.” Tom fashioned a dry smile. “They’ve kept him in overnight for observation, but other than a huge dent to his male ego, the doctors say he’ll be fine. He was screaming about pressing charges. Fortunately for Rebecca, Brendon’s father was on the team who treated her after she was found. I think he was more embarrassed than angry. He’s a reasonable man—more class than his son, that’s for sure.”
“His son is lucky I didn’t floor him. I was that close, Tom. The girl has been through so much already.”
“That she has. Is she okay? I can’t imagine it was easy explaining what happened to her father. He is so over-protective where she’s concerned.”
“I didn’t see her father.” Max decided to be honest. “I took her back to my place. I thought it best to give her time to calm down rather than let her parents see her in such a state. She’s very conscious of their concerns for her.”
To his surprise, Tom looked nervous as he and Fiona exchanged uncomfortable glances. Chris sipped her wine, expression…triumphant?
“What’s going on, Tom?”
“Why don’t you tell us?” Chris’s eyes narrowed.
“Enough.” Tom waved her to silence. “Max, Chris seems to think that maybe you have become too, em…absorbed by Rebecca Harding, and I am beginning to think she may have a point. How is it you are privy to her feelings?”
And just when he thought his evening couldn’t get any worse. Temper hanging in the balance, Max put down his glass and turned to face his friends. At least, he thought they were his friends. “Tom, I’m not sure I appreciate what you’re implying.”
“I saw you.” Chris couldn’t wait to add her two cents. “You rushed to her side like the caped crusader, and she fell into your arms like someone used to being there.”
Max couldn’t think of one time when he’d felt the urge to strike a woman—until now. “Well, well, well. It’s true. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” He was satisfied to see the flush rise to her cheeks. “My relationship with Miss Harding is none of your business.”
“But it is mine, Max.” Tom rested a hand on Max’s shoulder.
Max was in no mood to accept his decidedly withered olive branch. Shrugging it off, he challenged him. “Just what is it you’re implying, Tom? Are you trying to suggest I have crossed the line in some way?”
“Have you?” Chris attacked him.
Expression nervous, Tom turned to Chris. “I think it’s best you leave. Thank you for stopping by.”
“How British and proper.” Max leaned against the wall, arms folded. “Yes, thank you so much, Chris.”
Head held high, she picked up her coat and allowed Tom to escort her to the door.
“Come on, Max, please don’t be angry.” Fiona pleaded with him. “We’re concerned, that’s all. I know Chris is a bitch, but right now, I am more concerned with Rebecca and your involvement with her, however innocent it may be, and I believe it is.” In an uncharacteristic show of affection, she wrapped her arms around him and held him close. “We love you, you know that.”
“She’s right.” Tom came back into the room, wearing his headmaster creased brow. “Please don’t shoot the messenger, but when a member of my staff voices a concern, I have to follow up on it. Saying that…why you don’t sit down and relax, Max? You’re wearing more raised hackles than a porcupine.”
“With good reason.”
“Max, I am not saying I believe what Chris is trying to suggest, but I have to ask you. Have you inadvertently crossed the line with Rebecca?”
Verbal attack at the ready, Max changed his mind.
“Okay.” He sat. “Let’s discuss this rationally, if we can, although, at the moment, I am feeling anything but.”
“I can see that.” Arms folded, Fiona sat by his side. “Max, what’s going on? You sounded pretty upset when you called. It is to do with Rebecca, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Running his fingers through his hair, he groaned. “I think, no, I know I am way over my head. I need to talk to someone about this, and yet I hate myself for betraying her trust.”
“Max, if Rebecca is in some kind of emotional trouble, then you need to tell me. I’m trained for this.” Fiona put a comforting hand on his knee.
“No disrespect, Fi, but you and Tom haven’t had too much success in breaking through her walls, have you?”
“And you have?” Tom pulled over a footstool and straddled it until he was face to face with Max. “I find that hard to believe, considering your turbulent history with the girl. You told me she hated your guts.”
“She did.” Fingers bridged, Max sat back, allowing himself a tiny smile. “But we found a way to reconcile our differences. I helped her out when she needed a friend, let’s just say.” He took a deep breath. “Tom, Fiona, you, her parents…the doctors—you were all so wrong about her. She hid the truth from all of you. Rebecca hasn’t lost her memory. She remembers every horrible, stomach-churning detail of her ordeal.”
A stunned silence filled the room, overlaid by the low monologue of the late night weatherman on the television.
“She told you this?” Fiona shook her head, eyes narrowing in disbelief. “But why you? You were a virtual stranger to the girl.”
“I think there lies your answer. Please, before we go any further, this conversation doesn’t leave this room. No running to her parents or her doctors. I hate myself for betraying her trust, but, well…after her revelation tonight, I have no choice, not if I’m to make you both understand.”
“Max, you’re beginning to scare me.” Tom ground his teeth, a sure sign he was exasperated. “Whatever it is, just tell us.”
“Okay.” Max cleared his throat. “This is it. Do you remember the conversation we had not so long ago—about crossing the line with a pupil?”
An uneasy silence soaked into the atmosphere; even the weatherman appeared to have gone quiet.
Tom stared hard at him. “Max, I’m not sure I want to go where you seem to be taking me.”
“Oh, ease up. I am not saying I’ve crossed it. At least, I haven’t intentionally.”
“So what is the state of your relationship with Rebecca?” Fiona’s disappointment in him speared his heart.
“I’ve been giving her some extra tutoring—on your recommendation, I might add, Tom. And, I admit, over these past few weeks, we’ve spent a lot of time together.”
“Well, that’s not a bad thing.” Tom looked relieved. “You told me you were going to help her catch up.”
“Tom, you’re so naïve, at times.” Fiona held Max prisoner with condemnation in her eyes. “I, on the other hand, am not. What I think you are trying to say is, the girl has developed feelings for you beyond those of a normal teacher-pupil relationship.”
“If you mean by beyond that we are close, then yes, but only as friends—or so I thought. I won’t lie to you. Rebecca and I, we have a connection. It’s weird, but I have never felt so emotionally close to anyone. She makes me laugh. We can talk about so many things. I admit it, she-she fascinates me, but I swear to you, I never overstepped the boundaries. Tonight she confessed she has feelings for me, and now I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Oh, Max.” Fiona’s soft reproach wounded him more than as if she’d yelled at him. “How could you have allowed it to get out of hand? Surely you saw this coming?”
“Excuse me? This is Rebecca we’re talking about. She is a master at hiding her feelings and keeping secrets. Christ, she’s kept all of you in the dark for the past two years, pretending all was fine, not admitting to anyone how damaged she is by what happened to her. So excuse me if I missed she was falling in love with me.”
“Oh twaddle.” Tom dismissed his outburst with a wave of his hand. “It’s a schoolgirl crush, nothing more. She’ll get over it.”
“Don’t be so bloody pompous, Tom.” Fiona turned on him. “And so unfeeling. You don’t know her as well as I do. She is a very sensitive girl and as Max points out, so psychologically broken. I don’t believe we can just write this off as a crush. We have to tread carefully. As a counselor, I know how much damage rejection could cause an impressionable young woman. Rebecca is so emotionally immature, Max—”
“If this is you trying to make me feel better, it’s not working.”
“At this moment, I don’t give two monkeys if you feel better or not.” Fiona shot back. “My concern is for Rebecca. Can’t you see what has happened here?” She let out a weighty sigh. “It’s what we therapists call transference.”
“I’m hardly a therapist.”
“But in a way, you were, and I imagine you certainly acted like one. I think Rebecca chose you to confide in because you represented neutral territory. This happens all the time, Max. Young people, even older people, fall in love with their therapists because, like you, they listen, care, show affection, understand, and nothing is more appealing to a young lady than that.”
“No.” Max shook his head. “I understand your rationalization, but I think it’s more.”
“You think it’s real love? Oh, come on, Max.” Tom laughed.
“Shut up, Tom.” Fiona held up her hand and urged Max to go on. “What exactly did that animal do to her, Max? Explain.”
“I can’t.” Avoiding her unrelenting gaze, Max stared into his glass. “Not without betraying her confidence. I won’t repeat what she told me. I promised her. She doesn’t want anyone to know. She says it was bad enough she had to go through it without making her parents suffer.”
“This is all well and good, you both playing psychoanalyst, but we have a more pressing problem facing us—or at least facing you, Max. How are you going to handle Rebecca? I think you’ve become too involved. You can’t go on teaching her. I have to assign you another class.”
“Sometimes you amaze me.” Fiona stared at her husband, consternation all over her face. “You don’t get this, do you? Do you think that is going to solve the problem?”
A high-pitched shriek broke through the tense atmosphere. “Mu-mmmy!”
“I’ll go.” Tom made for the stairs. “Don’t leave, Max, and please, I’m not judging you. This isn’t your fault. We’ll sort it.”
Max watched his retreating back. Despite his words to the contrary, Tom, he knew, was disappointed. It left a sour taste in his mouth, but it was nothing compared to the pain he felt at disappointing Fiona. Her opinion of him had always meant so much. She stood before him, arms folded around her slim waist, tears glistening in her eyes. Without Tom acting as buffer, tension permeated every molecule of the atmosphere: so many unspoken words and too many old emotions bubbling below the surface. Max knew where Fiona’s head was. She proved his intuition where she was concerned was as sharp as ever.
“You know, Max,” she reached out to touch him, her fingertips lightly caressing his jaw, “you seem to have this knack of breaking girls’ hearts, even if you don’t mean to.”
“Fiona. I didn’t—”
“I know you didn’t.” She smiled, but her eyes still bore a hint of the pain he and Kate had caused her. “I got over you. I love Tom. You know that, and so in a way, you did me a favour. I wouldn’t have fitted into your world, but I won’t lie to you. It hurt. Actually, it was Kate who hurt me more. I confided in her. I thought she was my friend. She knew I had feelings for you, and then she swooped in and snatched you out of my arms. I’ll never forgive her for that. She doesn’t deserve you, but you’re blind to what a manipulative bitch she is, and do you know what the sad thing is? You don’t really love her.”
“That’s not fair. I do.”
Fiona smiled. “No you don’t, o
r else you’d be with her.”
“Funny.” Max touched her cheek. “Rebecca said the exact same thing.”
“Poor Rebecca, still such a sensitive child. How will she get over you? First love and all that.” Fiona turned away and walked toward the French windows. Back turned to him. “You’re a tough act to follow.”
“Fiona,” Max swallowed against a hard lump of panic, “please help me out here. I want to do the right thing, and more than anything, I don’t want to hurt her, but I know I’m going to have to.”
“Yes.” She turned to face him, arms folded, a sad smile on her face. “You are. Tom’s right about one thing. You can’t go on teaching her. God, Max, this is such a mess. Of all the girls in the school, why did it have to be her?”
“You know what the scary thing is, Fi?” Max joined her by the window. “She was so calm, so controlled. She stood there with this serene smile and told me she loved me, and then…then, she asked me to kiss her.”
“Please tell me you didn’t.” Fiona put her fingers to her lips.
“She kissed me.” He tried to erase the memory of her innocent lips. “It wasn’t even that. A chaste brush of the lips, but…she offered herself to me. She asked me to let her stay.”
“Wow.” Stepping back, Fiona put up her hands. “This changes things, Max. It tells me Rebecca is in too deep with this. I think—”
“I have to leave.” Max voiced the only option open to them.
“Oh Max, I don’t know what to say. It seems so drastic.”
“At least it will kill any hope she may cling to, but hell, it will seem such a betrayal. I will have let her down.” Groaning his confusion, he buried his face in his hands. Why did this have to fucking happen? Damn that arse Brendon.”
Reaching up on tiptoes, Fiona kissed him. It was the briefest of embraces and yet it told him so much. “You’re a decent, kind man. With the exception of Tom, you mean more to me than any other man I’ve known. Please don’t shatter my illusions. I know you believe you’re doing the right thing by Rebecca but just to walk away?”
A Little Crushed Page 17
